Heights
by BeeHawYeeHaw
Summary: The Superintendent had heard it first. The Inspector could hardly remember how it all came to be. The Constable couldn't tell you what he last thought The Sergeant saw it all too late. The Pathologist's latest call out had to be the worst. REVIEWS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED


**1\. The Superintendant**

The Superintendent had heard it first. The horrid crunch, snapping and breaking of bones. The thack of skin and muscles hitting the rigid concrete down below at such force Bright knew no one could survive. An instant killing…

The older man had hesitatantly made his way over, stomach already rolling and mind not stable enough to comprehend the unfolded events. But, Bright moved forward anyway, a sort of morbid curiosity he could shamefully admit, as well as the need to confirm. Make sure it was definitely a dream, just a harrowing and unspeakable nightmare.

But it wasn't.

His Detective Constable, his colleague, his friend. _Morse _lay on the unforgiving ground. Blood pooling, limbs bent awkwardly.

Empty, lifeless eyes stared unseeing up at him. Intense cerulean orbs now dulled in death, the twinkle that shone as the Constable theorised, never to show itself again. Still full of fear, they bored into Bright's core, wrapping his soul in guilt, mourning and sorrow.

Deep, rouge liquid ran down from his mouth and nose, a stark contrast to the now muted tones of Morse's skin. It mixed with the miniature lake that encircled the man's head, by now it had started to dry and crust in the ginger curls. Shirt beginning to stain. Not Morse's usual tidiness…

Shouts and sirens burst the bubble his thoughts were in, pulling him to the present. The Superintendent forced his eyes away and pulled his hat off, holding it to his chest to whisper a silent prayer. He wasn't a religious man but Bright hoped whichever deity or overpower was out there took care of Morse's soul, gave him the freedom to run his mouth and use his large brain. No more harm to befall the young man.

"Give the man some decency and bring a god damn cover!" He demanded, now noticing the ensemble forming around him. Reginald Bright gone and Superintendent Bright back on duty.

He had time to grieve later, when the moment was appropriate.

Reginal Bright could now only give his Constable the respect and dignity deserved.

* * *

**2\. The Inspector**

The Inspector could hardly remember how it all came to be. With a glass in front, resting on the table, Thursday watched nothing. Thoughts stuck that fateful day.

The two of them, Morse and himself, onto of a building. The suspect, one Arthur Kayhes, gripping tight to Morse's lapels. Desperately, he was. Killed his mother and sister, jealous over a girl leaving him. Gruesome crime, unnecessary death.

Of course, Thursday's bagman had figured it all out. Saw the dots and connected them, come to realise the true murderer and their motive. An angry man, wanting revenge on anyone who so reminded him of his ex-girlfriend, any woman. It had boiled Fred's blood.

The Inspector had attempted to negotiate, almost pleading for the man to release his boy. Fred couldn't afford to show his emotions for Kayhes could take advantage. Not that the criminal wasn't already, given the upper hand from the start.

The monster screamed inhumanely as Thursday dared to step forward, arms stretched out and palms open. He meant no harm however Kayhes wouldn't listen, too caught up in grief and guilt to understand reason.

Then it took a turn for the worst. The accused's behaviour became frantic and Morse's eyes expanded in total terror, feet set close - too close - to the edge. Now there was Thursday's demands, Arthur Kaynes' shouts and Morse's pleas sounding out. Almost disorientating. Maddening. All three coming from fear. All making the situation unfavourable. Dangerously dreadful.

And then Kayhes let go.

Thursday felt his world fall into slow motion as it happened, barely registering the action until it was too late.

The lad's feet scrambling fruitlessly at the ground before losing all hold completely, arms flailing slightly, trying to grab something. A_nything_.

He must have shouted or screamed as his throat began to burn and now Fred leaned over the edge as if he could reach down and grab his falling bagman. Too slow to properly help, Thursday blamed himself.

Thursday forgot all about Kayhes, forgot about the job, forgot about the world. All focus on Morse, unable to do anything and could only watch.

* * *

The Inspector had slowly trudged down the stairs with Strange behind, dragging the cuffed son of a bitch with them.

Fred needed to get to his boy, he needed to see the damage done. His fault. To hold Morse's broken body. Except he couldn't…his Constable was now another victim, a part of a crime scene. Picture would be took, a post mortem underway. The news would spread the story.

No privacy for his young Detective Constable.

Once the trio reached ground floor, Fred gave Strange his orders, barely sparing him a glance as Thursday marched over to where a small group of uniforms had emerge.

They split in different directions as Mr Bright called out, Thursday coming to a stop beside him and staring down at the sad, crumpled body in front of them.

He carefully and briefly kneeled, shutting Morse's eyes with the lightest of touches.

Another bagman gone…another friend- son…

Fred Thursday's heart broke from guilt and pain once again.

* * *

**3\. The Constable**

The Constable couldn't tell you what he last thought. That was before as his whole life flashed before him. His mother's funeral; leaving signals; Blenheim Vale; his missing sergeants; then the raw panic in his governer's eyes as he fell. Morse saw it all in perhaps a few mere seconds, and now he thought too much.

He wished he told Joan how he felt, taken her to dinner perhaps. Morse regretted never getting back with Monica too, she had been sweet. He could still remember softness of her lips, how their bodies seemed to fit together. But prison ruined that.

The disappointment he felt not getting his Sergeant rank, his paper to be the only one missing. Any chance at promotion paralysed by those in higher places, superior officers and now the high up Arthur Kayhes.

Joycie would have to go without a goodbye, Gwen wouldn't bat an eye and probably blame him for upsetting her dear daughter. His father already gone.

Maybe he would get to see his mother? Whether there was paradise beyond death. Morse thought that would be nice, he missed her.

The top of the building grew smaller and smaller as gravity pulled him close, Morse knew the ground would be coming soon.

Morse studied the sky above him, a gorgeous scene for such a grizzly end. He wanted it tobe his last image, engraved into his mind as Morse would eventually connect with the ground. Not like a typical scene when the main character dies. No gushing rain, mixing with tears and soaking through the layers of clothes. No deep, almost charcoal black clouds to hide any given light. No, this was perfect, in a sad sort of way.

He hadn't really come to terms with his demise, accepted that this was his end. Nonetheless, he knew it was to happen. Morse just hoped his death wasn't to halt everyone else's lives, no sort of revenge or memorial, just a simple goodbye…

Endeavour Morse didn't even feel his skull fracture as it met the floor.

* * *

**4\. The Sergeant**

The Sergeant saw it all too late. Busy sweeping the building for anyone else, he wasn't there to help. He couldn't have stopped Kayhes. But that was always the way with, never there on time, consistently showing up last. He thought himself a lousy police officer to say the least.

He never saw the fall, the last image of Morse alive, but Strange had ran. Shouting, three different voices, had echoed down the staircases and hallways, alerting him.

Jim made it to the room when there was a soul shaking scream from his governer, something Strange had never thought he'd hear, and the Sergeant rushed forward swiftly grabbing tightly around the still screaming Arthur Kayhes, and dragging his away from the edge. Strange might have been rough but he could say he gave a damn about police procedure at this time.

Strange made sure the handcuffs were secure and held back from hitting the wailing man, instead throwing him a deadly look which ended with Kayhes quiet.

Fred Thursday took his attention now, currently hunched over the edge, hazardous and uncaring for his self care. The governer was staring down at the far away ground below and as the Sergeant moved closer he spied it to. _The body_-

"Oh lord, matey..."

* * *

**When they were down on the ground, Strange veered off to the side, orders received from Thursday, leading their convict to the closest police vehicle. The man was passed off to some uniformed officers and the Sergeant left.**

He gradually made his way to his Governer and Mr Bright, not entirely sure if he could. The thought of Morse- it made Strange sick, he thought wouldn't be able to hold back his anger.

His- Morse's body was covered and Jim smoothed down his jacket. He could do it, one final glance at the gaunt, freckled face as the cover was drawn over. Now to never grow old, collect wrinkles like they were stamps.

Jim Strange knew he would become a better detective to honour their own.

* * *

**5\. The Pathologist**

The Pathologist's latest call out had to be the worst. The most serious and heartbreaking. A corpse he hoped never to see, not for a long time.

He arrived on scene, surprisingly the last to show. Usually he was the one to greet Constable Morse and Inspector Thursday, giving them the brief details Max could find before the post mortem. Empty pockets and hand over any personal or suspicious items.

Debryn slowed his pace, the atmosphere suddenly filled with apprehension and dread. Something felt wrong, he couldn't spy Morse. Perhaps he was already searching the roof? This John Doe had fallen, dead on impact, Max was told. That was all he was told…

But as Thursday turned to him, face set but eyes blank, Max knew. _Somehow _he just knew.

His stomach dropped, faulting midstride, almost dropping his case.

Just as quickly, Max swallowed down the lump building in his throat and pulled down the mask of professionalism, calmly walking to them and carefully pushing through the wall of man.

A sheet framed key part of his body, his nose, his arms, the ever-so-thin torso. The pathologist wasn't certain if he could dare to peel it back and expose his friend to the world, to allow what took him away to gave ine last gloat.

Unfortunately duty didn't care what Max wanted so he must.

He gingerly pinched the sheets, inhaled deeply and pulled the blood blemished material away. The ever glowing eyes closed, crimson now crusting over his skin. There was a sharp inhale however Max didn't look as he moved to kneel next to Morse's head, ever so tenderly lifting it to look.

Max Debryn had to at least be gentle with his friend now.

* * *

**Max found the Inspector later on, sat in Superintendent Bright's office, said man and Sergeant Strange with him. The whole station itself in grief, mourning it's loss of a asset and a friend.**

The air was thick with grief, faces grim and a bottle of brandy open on the desk.

Debryn stood infromt of them, file labed _E. MORSE _tucked under his arm. Thursday glanced to him, poured another glass and handed it over.

"Doctor?"

"Instantaneous, no pain."

The three took the news with solemn nods. All men falling into another silence until Bright raised his glass.

"Too Morse." He declared, they all followed suit.

"Too Morse!"

With a breath, the drinks were knocked back and downed.


End file.
